Double Drabbles
by Sue Shay
Summary: Collection of paired Drabbles, because sometimes 100 words just aren't enough. :) In my brightest fantasy, I write for Team Heller and all these characters are mine. Alas, however, in real life I'm just a romance writer who doesn't own ANY of these characters. I make no money off these ramblings of mine. For entertainment purposes only (as CRR likes to say in his Author Notes.)
1. Things Are Different Now

His nights were cold, even in the California climate. His Aerie was empty and gray, vaguely illuminated by the mercury vapor lights of Sacramento reflecting off the low hanging clouds and through the dirty, iron-framed windows.

An old wooden door and a well-used gymnastics mat covered with a scratchy wool blanket served as a bed. At its foot stood his empty crime board, all the pictures and notes taken down and burned.

It wasn't so much that the world was cold. It was his existence that was cold.

One day Red John would be dead. Then his existence would change.

* * *

His nights were warm, lovely as California could produce. Their apartment together was full of bright art, photos of friends, even a tropical fish tank. They had a cleaning lady who came because law enforcement kept them away from home for long stretches at a time.

It kept them away together, however. They were chasing regular criminals now; ones that didn't plant spies or kill friends. Making friends became easier, too; they made many. A pre-natal class, dinner with neighbors, an evening out with just the two of them.

Red John was dead. His life had changed to the better.


	2. Next Time I Hear From You

**_Thanks to my betas Cumberland River Relic and make-mine-a-kiaora because getting their feedback inspires me to continue writing!_**

**_However, THIS double is dedicated to MartyMac49 for her review for "Things Are Different Now", the first drabble in the series. As wonderful as everyone's reviews have been, hers actually made me giggle._**

* * *

"Next time I hear from you, you'd better be telling me that Red John is dead," Hightower said.

_What did she just say?_

Lisbon stared at her old boss, struggling to keep her jaw from dropping open. The woman she'd admired for so many years was talking crazy. Encouraging vigilante justice? That was insane!

Yet… it…made sense…if Lisbon was honest with herself. How many torturous deaths had she devised for Rebecca Anderson every night as she lay awake in those months following Sam Bosco's death? Madeline's life had been affected even more than Lisbon's. Well…maybe it had. Hadn't it?

* * *

The open wounds steamed in the cool mountain air. Red John's lifeless corpse lay before her, its spilled blood staining the fresh snow in a strangely satisfying manner.

She didn't have to shoot him so many times. The two extra bullets after he was dead had made no difference, but her conscience was bullied into submission by the primal bloodlust that had pulled the trigger of her favorite Glock beyond effective use.

A dead monster lay before her and despite the freezing air around her, she felt wonderful inside. The world was a safer place. Her lover Patrick was safe.


	3. Then and Now

Lisbon had wanted to never hear that woman's voice again, yet there she was hanging on Lorelei's every word.

Afterwards Patrick took the disc and broke it, exhaling deeply as the weight of the words sank home.

Teresa stared at his face - the lines etched in his forehead and down his cheek. This was taking its toll on him, and even if Red John was caught within the hour, how would that beautiful face ever recover? Even his 'carefree conman' act was worn thin.

She wanted it back, that cheeky, playful, wonderful Patrick Jane. Would she ever have it?

* * *

An ordinary day fighting ordinary crime committed by ordinary criminals.

It was the kind of day she'd hoped for since Red John died.

Seeing Jane working was anything but ordinary. Yes, he complained (when didn't he?) that the problem of the dead cheating fiancé murdered by his jealous fiancée was simple, but Lisbon could see the change.

To start, he'd picked Cho's pocket for the car keys. Then he emptied Rigsby's wallet, and somehow the cash ended up in Van Pelt's blazer pocket.

Best of all, the mischievous smile returned. The grooves in his face smoothed away.

Jane was back.


	4. From the Beginning to the Bitter End

He was like a lost puppy, standing at the side of the room, hair a tangled mess, a hurt look in his eyes.

The cynical side of her even wondered if she'd have to keep a mop handy in case he piddled on the floor. His voice was kept low and without inflection, as if he feared too much emotion would reveal state secrets or something.

But she kept him around. Partly because Minelli - damn him! - had ordered it to ward off a lawsuit, but mostly because ...well, dammit, it was hard not to feel sorry for the guy.

* * *

He broke the law and he didn't care. The satisfaction in his eyes was accented with a defiant spark. As he turned his back to Cho, placing his hands on his head, waiting to be cuffed, his gaze met hers. The defiance turned rueful.

But he never lost the look of gratification, even knowing he was going to prison for the murder of Red John.

Why didn't he call first? She wished it could have happened differently. They'd been through so much together. Ten years! She could have helped!

It was hard not to feel sorry for the guy.


End file.
